


Neptune Summer Series

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer in Neptune, Veronica goes to the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original note: My first V.Mars fanfic. Comments are welcome as well as appreciated.
> 
> Present day note: WHAT?????? I broke my fanfiction V. Mars virginity with this one. I had no idea which was my first. Does this make me a V. Mars fanfiction slut? Perhaps. I'm entirely unapologetic for that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer in Neptune after The Event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who gave such nice comments on Veronica's POV. Now Wallace gets his turn. Comments welcome and appreciated.

The air shimmered in the afternoon sun, thick and yellow-brown, a haze that draped itself over everything, muting the colors and blending the hills into the sky.

Summer. Time for fun and boys and parties in the back yards with badly mixed pitchers of margaritas and lukewarm beer around bonfires build in pits dug out of sand, hot nights wrapped in his arms, staring up at the star spangled sky.

At least that’s how it used to be. Or it’s how it should be.

The last time she was here he came up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped, heart racing, her breath escaping from between her lips that had fallen open in surprise.

And she still remembered the catch in his voice. It played over and over in her head, a nefarious means of torture to remind her of what she had done. What she had become.

I thought it would all come back. The friends, the feeling of belonging, the love that I had wrapped around me. I told myself it was about revenge. About justice. But it was about finding normal again, finding the center that had been cruelly ripped away from me that night I found out you were dead. I thought if I just found out who really did it, all that would come back to me with just a snap of fingers, a magical sprinkle of fairy dust returning the past to me, shiny and new and all ready to start again.

But it didn’t, Lilly. None of it happened. I am more lost today than I’ve ever been. It turned out to be about trust and betrayal. And it wasn’t me who was betrayed.

She hadn’t gone back there. Not until today.

She told herself it was work. Dad was still recovering from his injuries – from saving her – and they needed the money. The papers had listed his name and the calls were coming in. They could finally be picky about their cases. Summer shouldn’t get in the way of the family business.

Yeah, her dad replied from the couch, his eyes watching the way she shoved her hands in her pockets, the way she swayed in the middle of the room. The silence stretched between them until Veronica had to turn and leave, mumbling something about case notes due by Monday.

She told herself that the ocean no longer held the wonder and mystery for her that she’d once felt standing on the edge, teetering as if she was about to fall into the abyss, Lilly at her side, drunk and giggling, the scent of strawberry lip gloss mixed with tequila drifting on the night warm breeze. Veronica stood at the edge, feeling the warm, salty waters close lap around her toes, her arms spread wide as she tilted her head back and laughed; at her friend who was now singing a Britney Spears song at the top of her lungs, at the reflection of the moon on the water and at the perfection of that night. That wonder was gone, smashed like the side of Lilly’s skull as the ashtray impacted it.

She told herself it was kid stuff, sand castles and oogling cute boys, and that she was beyond all that. When Wallace suggested a day of kite flying followed by a picnic at the beach, she quickly countered by bribing him with curly fries and milkshakes at the rundown Tasty Freeze behind the Camelot. She promised him cute waitresses in short skirts, so he was disappointed when the woman at the window was pushing fifty and had caked on a little too much blue eye shadow. At least she was still wearing a short skirt, Veronica teased as they turned from the counter and walked toward the worn tables faded from too many years of sunshine. It wasn’t the beach.

It was the Tasty Freeze where she’d seen him for the first time since The Event. The event that left Veronica with a shock up her spine every time she smelled gasoline and strange dreams filled with fire, smoke and fear.

His image had been splashed all over the papers after The Event. The son of the star of Breaking Point and Breaking Point II caught as he walked into the police station, his face set in a scowl. Veronica had stared at his image a little too long, searching for something in his expression to give her hope: pain, forgiveness. But she’d only seen the scowl and behind that emptiness. Then she’d thrown the paper into the recycling bin.

She walked out of the Tasty Freeze, eyes squinting in the early afternoon sunlight, and her heart stopped. She willed it to beat again as she stared across the tables. And he stared back, face blank except for eyes that burned with betrayal. She wanted to reach out, to smooth away the hurt, so say that sorry would never cover what she’d done, and her mouth opened, about to say his name, the words forming in her head before they could slip past her tongue and become real. Then he’d turned away from her and that was the end. And her heart ached. But she just ate her curly fried and finished the butterscotch milkshake and laughed with Wallace like nothing had every happened.

Except everything had happened in that moment their eyes met.

Once you said that anyone who didn’t accept me was dead to you. I’ll never forget how your hand gripped mine. It was the beginning of the end for me, the return that I was trying to find for a year and a half. What Logan Echolls said was the word of a God, followed and worshipped. The exile of Veronica Mars was over with that phrase and I knew at that moment that what we’d been doing was more to you than horny make-out sessions and stolen kisses. And then you’d asked if I trusted you and all I could feel were your lips burning mine and your body, and all I wanted to do was press myself into you and feel your hair in my fingers, your tongue in my mouth, and of course I trusted you. Any girl would trust you.

Somewhere I confused trust with the need to fuck and feel good, to feel something.

Because I didn’t trust you. Not until that day on the beach when you stood in front of me with your face bared and hurting, and for the first time I trusted that you were telling the truth. That’s why I went to the party that night. It was never to find Lilly’s murderer. It was to find you innocent.

And now I’m dead to you.

It seemed like such a long time ago that Veronica had thought she lost her innocence in the guest room of a strange house, her brain foggy, head falling back, tongue thick in her mouth. She imagined it, him, the stranger. Pounding into her plaint body, taking and taking until he was sated and she was left to wake up in the morning, searching for her panties.

That wasn’t the moment.

Then there was the vodka that had seared it’s way down her throat, burning into her stomach, and she’d coughed at the surprise of it, as well as the realization that all was not okay. Her stomach lurched as she picked up the phone to call the rehab center and when she confirmed her mother, the one who is supposed to love and protect her forever, had left early, Veronica had leaned over the kitchen sink and heaved until her stomach muscles were sore. The mother who was supposed to make everything better had lied.

That wasn’t the moment either.

It was the beach. It was his voice and the tears she saw creeping from the corners of his eyes. It was the way he said her name, as if everything had been ripped from him and it was by her hand. It was the slight shake she saw in his shoulders as he walked away from her. That was the moment that Veronica Mars lost everything.

And she didn’t even know it at the time.


	2. Chapter 2

For the longest time summer had meant summer camp and having to make new friends and trying to make ends meet so they could spend that fun filled weekend at the water park.

This summer is different. Wallace breathes in the smells of sizzling meat, charcoal, potato salad warming dangerously in the sun, dry grass mixed with sunshine and dust. Alicia’s laughter drifts across their backyard and without opening his eyes, or even cricking his neck up from the lounge where he is lying, his body relaxed in the sunshine, he knows that Keith has just made a bad joke. 

A really bad joke. 

A smile flickers across his face as he imagines his mother’s face, eyes crinkling up and how she gets that little wrinkle between her eyebrows when something is really funny. She’s happy. And that makes Wallace happy.

This year summer means family. And barbeques. And lying in his backyard listening to sounds of happiness. No summer camp. No worrying. Everything is fine.

Except that it isn’t. 

For a long time he told himself it was because of What Happened. That’s what Wallace termed the terrible night they had all discovered that not only had Aaron Echolls been sleeping with Lilly Kane, he had taken an ash tray and smashed it into the side of her skull, leaving her by the side of the Kane pool and launching the town of Neptune into chaos. 

He was sitting on the couch when the call came in. His mother was standing at the phone, her face grey, eyes wide. And he knew then it was bad. It would only be in the days following Wallace would get the full picture. 

At least it was all over. He’d read the Lilly Kane files on Veronica’s computer. He’d seen how much discovering who had really murdered her meant to his best friend. He’d been given a glimpse of a different Veronica: a happy Veronica. Not closed off and full of secrets, asking for tardy slips and school files and mysterious phone calls in the middle of class and never telling him why. And it had almost ended badly, but it was over. And they could go back to their normal lives, with barbeques, hanging out at the beach, just having fun.

Except that it didn’t work that way. Normal today wasn’t the normal of yesterday. Wallace missed normal with an ache in his chest when he lay in bed at night, starting at the ceiling, willing sleep to send him into darkness. That was when the worry crept in: worry about Veronica. 

She was changed. She’d always been closed off, holding everything close so no one else could see how much she hurt, or how much she cared. She didn’t seem that different: she still laughed with him; still greeted him with flip comments and funny stories. She still enlisted his help on a regular basis, especially since Keith was still recovering. Always business, she laughed as she coaxed him to help her with yet another crazy stunt. On the outside she was still Veronica Mars, crazy-ass, off the hook girl detective and his best friend in the entire world. 

Except she wasn’t okay. 

There was an edge to Veronica that hadn’t been there before. Laughter didn’t quite reach all the way to her eyes. Her smile was a little forced. And every once in a while, when she didn’t know he was looking at her, Wallace caught a glimpse of sadness that hadn’t been there before. 

It was because of What Happened. At least that’s what he managed to convince himself. After all, who would be okay after being attacked by a maniac and seeing their dad have the shit beat out of him. And don’t forget the fire. It was understandable. And the papers were full of the story, pictures of Aaron Echolls being taken to court, Logan Echolls outside his house picking up the morning paper, glaring toward the camera as it documented his lack of privacy. How could she expect to forget when it was in her face twenty-four hours, seven days a week.

Wallace resolved himself to just be her friend. To give Veronica whatever she needed to process and recover: after all, isn’t that what being BFF was all about. It was more than going to the mall together and having a favorite song and jumping on the bed to stupid songs in the middle of the day. It was about giving Veronica space and time, and knowing that eventually she’d be okay. And he thought that was working. Until the day he realized that it wasn’t about What Happened at all.

He saw him first. Logan Echolls: son of a killer, beat by his father according to the latest Enquirer. Everyone in Neptune knew his business because of What Happened. There he was, standing outside the Tasty Freeze, looking strangely out of place on that rundown Neptune street. He was staring at the doorway, and for a moment Wallace thought Logan was looking at him until he realized that he was staring at Veronica, mouth tight, eyes blazing with…what was it? Wallace almost had to look twice before he realized what it was.

It was pain.

But it was the look on Veronica’s face as she squinted in the sunshine outside the Tasty Freeze that made it gel. Wallace could remember how the condensation on the milkshake cup made his hand wet, and dripped his wrist. How he could hear every sound around him. He remembered the smells of car fumes that permeated the air. And he remembered how Veronica’s face had dissolved into a mask of regret, and sorrow and pain almost as strong as what he’d seen on Logan’s face. Wallace looked back across the tables painted faded blue, green and red, most empty, some occupied by kids licking sticky fingers, their tired mothers glad to have purchased some peace and quiet at the mere price of a mediocre Tasty Freeze ice cream cone. Logan stared back but the pain Wallace had seen on his face had been replaced by anger. And not much else. 

And in that moment Wallace knew the hardness that had surrounded Veronica because of What Happened has something to do with being attacked by Aaron Echolls. And it had something to do with Keith being in the hospital. And it had something to do with her mother leaving. But the reason that when she laughed with him over curly fries and make fun of his Jamocha shake her laughter sounded a little tinny and here eyes were always a little sad was all about Logan Echolls and the pain Wallace had seen pass between them like sizzling electricity that day at the Tasty Freeze.

And at that moment Wallace realized no matter how he tried, ultimately Veronica Mars was still alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer in Neptune after The Event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for the great comments. Duncan gets his turn now.

  
That night when the truth was revealed was the night that hope returned for Duncan Kane. Everything had been chaotic: the lights and sirens, the rage on his father’s face, the alcohol on his mother’s breath as she told him to go to bed then lifted the glass and took another swallow, ice cubes clinking against the side of the expensive Waterford crystal.

It took a long time for Duncan to start really seeing what was around him besides the blur of police men or the flash of the cameras from the media who had camped outside their door within a half hour of the phone call that told Jake and Celeste Kane that their torment was over, that their beloved son wasn’t a killer, that all their work to cover up and deceive had been for nothing. It was too much for Jake who pushed against the arms holding him back as he screamed into Aaron Echolls’ bloodied face.

It was the movie star. Father of his best friend. Lilly’s lover. He’d been caught, but not before he had made his final performance, a role that would be talked about for years and year over diner counters and cups of expensive Italian espresso all around Neptune. But he wouldn’t go quietly. Not until he had hurt Veronica and her dad.

He remembered trying to think, to stop the thoughts in his head that circled faster and faster. Her voice telling him about the paternity test, that they weren’t brother and sister, that he hadn’t killed Lilly, and that look on her face. The next breath he took was the lightest breath he’d taken in almost two years and for the first time in a long time he started to feel again: strangely happy amongst the chaos. And he knew in that moment that he loved her, had always loved her, would always love her.

Sometimes he would smell this strange smell, fleeting, just out of his grasp and he couldn’t figure out what it was, and he couldn’t remember that night, and everything felt like it was about to spin out of control, and he pulled away from everything and everyone, consumed with numbness. And Veronica drifted further from him and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t reach out. Only now did Duncan realize it was the smell of blood, Lilly’s blood, on his hands, his clothes, his face, metallic tasting in his mouth.

He had failed her.

He left the house that night, jumped into one of his dad’s cars because his was still sitting in the garage, window covered with thick plastic, the dented door a reminder of what it meant to lose control. The night air was thick, heavy with dew and the smell of dust. He made his way along the darkened Neptune streets, passing across the railroad tracks, past the flashing neon sign of the Quick-e-Mart, the darkened windows of the Tasty Freeze and the all night taco stand crowded with teenagers indulging their pot induced early Sunday morning cravings.

He stopped outside her apartment, sitting in his car for a moment, trying to catch his breath, collect his thoughts, stuffing down the hope that was welling up inside, prepare himself for the door that would be slammed into his face.

But it wasn’t.

She greeted him with all the warmth he remembered, the old Veronica who was sweet and unspoiled, and Duncan stepped forward and took her into his arms, holding her tightly, feeling her chest rise and fall, her face buried in his neck, breath hot against his skin. And he felt like his heart would burst from his chest with the tenderness of the moment. Then he kissed her.

And she kissed him back.

It was finally over. The last year and a half erased with the feel of her lips, the touch of her hands on the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling his face toward hers. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he walked her backwards through the doorway, eager to find the couch where he could stretch her out, feel the soft skin under her t-shirt, slide his fingers under the waistband of her pajamas, pulling them down her thighs, just like that night except this time he would wake up and stay with her.

Then she whispered into his mouth, so faint he wished he could pretend to never hear it and keep kissing her until the word was banished from her vocabulary and the only thing she could think about was how her body ached for him.

Wait.

He pulled back, looked into her face. He saw fear.

It was too much. Too soon. Come back tomorrow. They would talk. They needed to talk.

She stepped back, shoved her hands into her pockets. Words tumbled from her lips still swollen from his kisses. She became blank, shut down, and Duncan knew the old Veronica was gone. She’d never come back at all. She was a hallucination born from the hell of that night, a mirage that shimmered in front of him, tempting him.

He wanted to scream. To put his hands on her shoulders and shake her until she understood that he was back. He wanted to erase everything, to tell her that he’d been wrong. He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she knew that he loved her, had always loved her. Instead he heard the words slip from his mouth falling softly into the grey of morning.

Okay.

She promised to call.

He backed away from her, wanting to look at her face as long as possible, burn it into his memory, afraid that image might be all he had left. Then it was back to his car, back along the streets, back to the house, back to the hurt and pain and guilt that hung in the air like the smoke of his mother’s cigarettes as she sat next to the pool, smoking one cigarette after the other after the other, the same Waterford tumbler on the table by her side, it’s edges stained red with her lipstick.

Duncan clung to hope. It was all he had left. He came back the next day. And the next. And each time she said she wasn’t ready. Things were too confusing. Her dad was coming home from the hospital soon, and there was work to be done. Each time a different reason, a different excuse. Each time she drifted further and further from his grasp.

Days passed, then weeks. Soon the summer heat engulfed Neptune and the only way to find relief was to take refuge in air conditioning or to spend endless hours baking in the sunshine next to the pool.

It was one of those blistering days that Duncan finally found enlightenment. And like the words she’d whispered into his mouth as he crushed her against his body, he wished he’d remained ignorant. Because without ignorance, hope would die. And Duncan needed hope in the same way he needed oxygen.

The house was quiet when he walked up the long driveway lined with palm trees. He passed the pool, brilliant blue, still in the late afternoon sunshine and walked up to the patio door. It was open so he pushed his way into the giant living room, shivering as the chill of air conditioning hitting his skin, goose bumps popping up all over his forearms. He’d been in this house a hundred million times; been careful not to spill on the expensive white carpet, foraged for snacks or beer in the fridge, played pool in the game room, gotten shit-faced at more than one party. It was different this time, knowing this is where it had happened: where Aaron fucked Lilly and taped her; where the chain of events had started.

What do you want?

Duncan jumped at the sound of his voice, slightly slurred, and he could almost smell the booze scenting his breath: Logan. He turned to find Logan sitting on the couch, slouched back into the cushions, his eyes burning bright with alcohol and who knew what else.

What did he want?

It was a good question. He wanted it all back. He wanted his best friend. If he couldn’t have Veronica back, he could at least have Logan. He could have just one thing okay in his life. That’s what he wanted, but he couldn’t find the words.

Instead he stared. Logan’s face was taut and drawn, t-shirt rumpled. There were deep circles under his eyes. On the end table was a half full bottle. The good stuff. Probably from daddy’s liquor cabinet. No one was around the hide the key anymore.

I’m sorry.

Duncan’s voice sounded strange in the silence that stretched between them. He wanted to say so much more, to tell Logan he was wrong to stay away for so long, he was wrong to be scared. To tell him that he was worried about what lay between them now: the specter of Lilly’s death and who was to blame.

Fuck you.

Logan picked up the bottle and took a swig, grimacing a little as it burned down his throat. Duncan almost laughed at the grimace: he’s always thought that Logan could probably drink turpentine without wincing. He almost laughed except it wasn’t really funny. He tried again.

I shouldn’t have stayed away.

Another fuck you. Another swig. Duncan wondered how long Logan had been like this. He walked over to the couch and sat down, sinking into the expensive down cushions. White leather. Only the best for the late departed Lynn Echolls.

They were quiet for a long, long time, only the soft whir of central air filling the room. Duncan sitting next to Logan. Logan taking swigs form the bottle. Finally Logan spoke.

Is she okay?

Was who okay? Duncan was confused for just a moment. Then he remembered. A party, not long ago but at least a lifetime. He remembered how tiny her hand had looked in his as they faced the room together, the way she’d stood a little behind him, almost like she was scared. Imagine, Veronica Mars, scared. Most of all, he remembered the words.

If anyone here has a problem with my girlfriend, they can leave.

Girlfriend.

He was surprised he’d actually forgotten. Then he wasn’t surprised at all because he’d wanted so badly to forget. At the time it felt like the world was collapsing around him. He’d barely seen Logan’s face as he rushed out the door, barely noticed the pain from the shards of glass that had embedded in his skin as he smashed the window of his care; the look on Meg’s face. He’d scared her. Meg called it off after that.

Now through his alcohol induced haze, with the late summer sun falling across the room, all alone in the house that held too many memories, his father’s face splashed on every newspaper, every tabloid, the most important thing Logan could ask was how Veronica was doing. Duncan pushed down the rage he felt at those words. He lied, telling Logan she’s fine. Working hard at the agency. He just saw her last week. He lied knowing the mere casualness of his response, the banality of the details were like knives stabbing into Logan’s gut. Duncan wasn’t going to give this to Logan without inflicting a little pain.

Logan nodded when Duncan finished then took another swig. Duncan glanced over at his friend and saw his face fill with pain. In that moment Duncan realized why she kept saying wait. Why she kept asking him to give her more time.

Duncan left Logan’s house that day and drove directly to Veronica’s apartment. His heart was pounding as he knocked on the door. Alicia opened it, an apron wrapped around her hips, her hair curling around her shoulders, wiping her hands on a towel. Behind her Duncan could see Keith lying on the couch, pointing the remote at the television as he changed channels. There was no air-conditioning here, just the furnace-like heat of a Neptune summer day. It felt real.

She’s by the pool, Alicia said. And could Duncan tell her dinner would be ready soon. Duncan nodded.

He walked around the building and pushed open the gate that led to the pool. Veronica was stretched out on a lounger; sunglasses perched on her nose, a book lying across her chest. Duncan smiled when he saw the title: The Practical Handbook for Private Investigators. He stopped for just a moment, hanging back, looking at her, knowing this truly was the end. Then he stepped forward.

Hey you.

She started a little at the sound of his voice then smiled when she saw him, soft and welcoming. Friendly. And Duncan felt his chest clench he knew it was the last time he would feel any hope that things could be different. He walked up and sat down in the lounger next to hers.

I went saw Logan today.

And with those words he let go of Veronica Mars. Because he knew she was no longer his. Because if there was one thing Duncan Kane knew it was that he loved her more than anything but it meant nothing if she didn’t love him back. 


End file.
